


let's live like we're immortal (maybe just for tonight)

by digitalAlchemist



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Canon Compliant, Drinking, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalAlchemist/pseuds/digitalAlchemist
Summary: “You always were incredibly stubborn.” Sylvain laughs, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m glad to see that hasn’t changed.”“Do you want this tea or not?” The look Felix sends over his shoulder is full of false venom, a slight quirk pulling at the corner of his lips. His hands are busy preparing a kettle regardless, setting one of the burners on the stove alight and gently placing it on top. “I’m afraid I don’t have any cakes like the Professor used to.”“Your company will be enough of a treat, I assure you.”Felix abandoned his title and his home to retreat into an idyllic cottage life, hoping to forget the atrocities that he witnessed. Sylvain hasn't stopped looking for him since he went missing.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 91
Collections: Sylvix Big Bang





	let's live like we're immortal (maybe just for tonight)

**Author's Note:**

> My piece for the Sylvix Big Bang 2020! I was paired with the wonderful [Lois](https://twitter.com/lv2nt) who did some [beautiful artwork](https://twitter.com/lv2nt/status/1293532784531771394) to accompany this fic. It's also, I think, the longest single-chapter fic I've ever written (or at least recently) and I'm really pleased with it! There's some lines in here that I'm incredibly proud of, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
> 
> A huge thanks goes out to both [pep](https://twitter.com/peppiestbismilk) and [Leo](https://twitter.com/samariumwriting) for their valuable time doing beta!
> 
> The story is set several years after 3H ends, and is approximately canonical to the Crimson Flowers ending if Sylvain and Felix were recruited. The title is taken from the lyrics of "Wasted Nights" by ONE OK ROCK.
> 
> _Please note, this fic contains a brief but non-violent mention of a battle injury and how it occurred._

There's a knock on the door; Felix, expecting no company at this hour, ignores it. Another knock, this one a little more urgent — still it goes unacknowledged.

"Felix?"

The voice is a little muffled through the door, but his eyes go wide with recognition as the soft timbre resonates in his memories. Felix rises from his chair immediately, almost stumbling over his own legs to get to the door; he swiftly unbolts the latch and swings the heavy wood inwards.

"Sylvain, where-"

He is cut short by the force with which Sylvain pulls him into his chest, arms immediately sliding around his middle with a familiarity that hasn't dulled with time — Felix realises that Sylvain has grown even taller in his absence, almost a full head above him now.

"God, I thought I'd never see you again." Sylvain's hands squeeze into the fabric of Felix's jacket, grounding himself. "They told me you'd abandoned your title and run off to die… I wept for weeks, thinking I'd lost you forever."

"I'm still here, don't worry. But I’m definitely not a Duke, that’s true." Felix tucks his head into Sylvain's neck, letting his familiar scent fill his nostrils once more. "I… disappeared for a few years after running away from dukedom, didn't tell anybody where I went." He laughs, a quiet chuckle against Sylvain's throat. "I didn’t think you had the time to see me any more,  _ Margrave _ ."

Sylvain rolls his eyes at the emphasis, sighing softly into Felix’s hair. "Ashe gave me your address, he said you looked so… lost. I just had to come and see you."

"I don't quite know how he tracked me down, to be honest, but I'm glad he did." Another chuckle. "When he first visited the other day, it felt like no time had passed at all. It was like we were back at the monastery again, talking about baking sweets and training routines.” Felix pulls away, taking Sylvian’s wrist and gently dragging him inside. “Do you… want to stay for some tea?”

Sylvain chuckles as he’s pulled through the doorway, and it’s the brightest sound Felix has heard for months. “You’re not giving me much choice, Fe.”

“Oh come on, you could wrestle out of this if you really wanted.” Felix’s smile is soft, heart fluttering ever-so-slightly at the use of his old nickname. “Drinking the same stuff?”

“Still my favourite, yeah. You remember it?”

Felix slowly gives Sylvain his hand back, touch lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary, and ducks under the low arch leading into the kitchen. “I buy a new jar of it every few months.” He pauses, realising what he’s about to admit. “Just… just in case we ever met up again.”

Sylvain’s face crumples; Felix is sure it’s a mix of surprise and agony, the latter of which he wasn’t quite ready for. “Oh, Felix.” His words are wistful, caught on the end of a deep exhale of breath. He gently shuts the door and joins Felix in the kitchen, leaning against one of the cupboards. “You’re so sweet.”

He scoffs, looking away to fetch the jar of bergamot leaves from above the sink. “I just have trouble letting go of things, that’s all.”

“You always were incredibly stubborn.” Sylvain laughs, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m glad to see that hasn’t changed.”

“Do you want this tea or not?” The look Felix sends over his shoulder is full of false venom, a slight quirk pulling at the corner of his lips. His hands are busy preparing a kettle regardless, setting one of the burners on the stove alight and gently placing it on top. “I’m afraid I don’t have any cakes like the Professor used to.”

“Your company will be enough of a treat, I assure you.”

Felix’s breath catches in his throat, sending him reeling into a coughing fit; his fingers grip tightly onto the cupboard handle, and Sylvain is immediately at his side to help prop him upright. He holds Felix around the middle until the coughs recede, leaving him breathless and red in the face.

“I’m sorry… you caught me off guard with your stupid charm.” Felix still manages a smile, but it contorts into a grimace as he moves to stand up properly.

“Are you okay?” Sylvain’s question is a silly one — the answer is obviously no. But it’s laced with genuine concern and Felix understands the secondary meaning behind it.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, still a little wobbly on his feet. Felix’s eyes lose focus on Sylvain for a moment, instead staring at the gnarled knots of the wooden ceiling. “I suppose you’d find out some way or another.” He swallows, suddenly feeling weak in Sylvain’s presence. “I’m only really running on a single lung.”

He sounds deflated, defeated, and Sylvain  _ hates _ it. “What happened?” His arm doesn’t leave the small of Felix’s back, a reassuring weight for him to lean into.

“There was news of a rebellion, a year or so back, in one of the little villages quite close to the Fraldarius estate, so I went out on a personal mission to help.” His eyes return to Sylvain, flickering across his features but never meeting his eyes. “Except… it wasn’t just a rebellion — it was a cult uprising, and they’d managed to summon all sorts of vile creatures. We fought them off well enough, but I took a really nasty bite from one of them.” Felix winces at the memory, transferring a little more of his weight onto Sylvain. “The medics were able to heal up my skin, but I had a punctured lung and it wasn’t closing up again.”

“So they had to get rid of it?”

Felix nods, chewing his lip. “Pretty much. They said it might be possible to replace it with something workable, but I told them to just take it out. I’d rather live with one lung than one lung and a bag that might fail at any moment.”

“Oh Goddess, Felix.” Sylvain gently pulls him in for a hug again, one hand gently cradling the back of Felix’s head. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“Don’t be, you weren’t to know.” Felix rests his head against Sylvain’s chest again, closing his eyes as Sylvain’s fingers begin to gently scratch at the nape of his neck. “I’m absolutely fine, I just can’t really do anything strenuous.”

“Explains why I had to come way out into the sticks to find you.” Sylvain glances around the kitchen. “It’s a lovely little place you have here, though. Very  _ you _ .”

“What on earth do you mean by that?” Felix pulls back again, fixing Sylvain with a pointed glare.

“It’s… modest. And subtle.” Sylvain sends a beaming smile his way to try and disarm Felix a little. “It suits you.”

The berating that Felix is about to deliver is cut off by the whistle of the kettle coming to temperature. “You’re safe, for now.” He turns around in Sylvain’s arms, pulling the tea set from a nearby shelf. “Do you want to take a seat by the fireplace? I’ll bring these in.”

“Sure.” He untangles himself from Felix, fixing his jacket a little. “Do you have a ‘Felix’ chair, or is anything fair game?”

“Anything’s fine.”

As Sylvain’s footsteps retreat into the other room, Felix drops his face into his hands with a heavy sigh. His skin is still flushed a deep red, but no longer from overexertion – he’s forgotten how touchy Sylvain can be and being so close to him again after all these years apart is driving his senses into high gear. Sylvain was always the smooth to Felix’s rough edges, almost like two gears that never quite meshed together properly, and when they met up again after those five years, Felix was sure it was too late for them. But Sylvain acted as if nothing had changed, sticking to Felix’s personal space like glue and Felix could never muster up the courage to come clean.

To his credit, neither could Sylvain – they seemed to just share an unspoken set of rules that was never formalised into a relationship. Then, after the war, everything broke apart and they lost contact entirely. Felix disappeared from every record, shutting himself away in a small cottage in some remote countryside of the Galatean region. He rejected his title and threw himself back into combat, desperate to find some avenue to channel his bitterness into, and Sylvain was whisked away into the royal court to deal with his own set of duties that Felix cared nothing for. Fate had twined them so closely together growing up, but their positions tore them apart to the point where Felix thought they’d never see each other again, their promises forgotten in the depths of time.

“So how did Ashe find you, anyway?” Sylvain’s voice brings him out of his reverie, and Felix gets back to work on making drinks.

“He said he’d heard the rumours about me, this ‘mysterious shadow’ of a man able to take out any unit in the blink of an eye.”

Sylvain’s laugh echoes through the house again, and a feeling of comfortable warmth settles on Felix’s shoulders. “They said that about you? Wow, Felix, that’s quite the reputation you’d made for yourself.”

“It’s an exaggeration; I still fought from time to time, but the skirmishes grew thin as the years went by.” Felix finishes brewing the tea, dumping the strainer into the sink to cool down. “My sword’s been dull for months, but I think Ashe was just determined enough to track me down anyway. I would have sent a message to you myself, but you were impossible to get hold of…” He slides the cups onto a serving tray, grabbing a couple of sweet buns from a ceramic jar — they might not be the fine puddings the Professor used to spoil them with, but Felix baked these himself yesterday and Sylvain would enjoy something with his beverage. He carefully carries the tray through to the other room, depositing it on a side table and handing Sylvain his saucers.

“Oh, these look good!” Sylvain carefully balances his tea on one leg, gently tearing a pinch of the bread off and tossing it into his mouth. Felix tries not to watch as he chews on it, expression unreadable before his mouth splits into a wide smile. “They  _ are _ good! Did you make these?”

A blush blooms on Felix’s cheeks, the outburst of praise burning his skin. “Y-Yeah, yesterday. They’re nothing special, just something that isn’t plain bread…”

“Hey, that’s unfair.” Sylvain uses the rest of the bun as a pointing device, shaking it in Felix’s direction and getting crumbs on the floor — Feliix will chastise him later. “They might be simple but you made them and that’s amazing.” He takes another bite, much bigger this time, and a small hum of satisfaction rumbles in his throat. Sylvain reaches for the cup, washing the bread down with a careful sip as to not scald his tongue; he swallows the lot, nodding at Felix. “And you’ve brewed this  _ just _ how I like it. You really know how to spoil a man, Fe.”

There it is again — the slight  _ ba-thump _ of his heart bouncing against his ribs. Sylvain’s just being polite, the epitome of a good house guest, but the underlying affection isn’t just a hallucination on Felix’s part; the coy wink Sylvain throws his way confirms as much. He wonders if this might actually be the time they get it right.

“I just have a good memory for this kinda stuff.” Felix shrugs, trying to shake off the slight unease at being the centre of attention for something so minor. “You used to drink tea all the time, and you only really trusted me or Byleth to make it for you.”

“I could make it myself, too.” Sylvain hums around another sip of the beverage, placing the cup down before continuing. “But you guys were just better at it.”

“And we didn’t scald ourselves with the water.”

“That was  _ one time _ , Felix.” He laughs, searching the back of his hand as if the burn was still there. “And it wasn’t that bad, it was only a splash.”

“You were complaining about it for a whole week.” Felix steps closer, taking the seat opposite Sylvain and reaching for his own drink. His voice takes on a sarcastic lilt as he attempts to imitate the other man. “ _ Ohh, Professor, I can’t do training today because my hand’s still bandaged up. _ ”

Sylvain pauses, looking at Felix with a blank expression before his cheeks dimple with a smile and he laughs again, loud and booming in the small room. He’s guffawing hard enough for tears to spring, beading at the crinkle of his eyes as he holds onto his stomach. “F-Fe, oh my Goddess… was… was that supposed to be me?” He’s breathing heavily, trying to get air back into his lungs.

Felix regards him with a wry smirk, taking a long draw of his tea. “It’s not  _ supposed _ to be you, that  _ was _ you. Pitch perfect, I think you’ll find.”

“Uh-huh.” Sylvain swallows, fanning his hands in front of his face. “Of course, I shouldn’t doubt you and your impeccable range of talents.” He reaches down for some more tea, only to find his cup missing; Sylvain looks down and his face pales. The porcelain is currently sideways on the rug beneath them, contents scattered over its surface like blood on the battlefield. “Oh, shit. Fe, I’m so sorry, let me go get a towel or somet-”

He is cut short by Felix’s body blocking his vision of the scene, who ducks down with some old rags and begins to soak up the liquid before it seeps too far into the fabric. “This is why you can’t be trusted with a hot drink.” The glance Felix throws him isn’t malicious or angry, but Sylvain still shrinks back from it. “At least finish your bun before you eject that onto the floor as well.”

He sits in silence, slowly chewing on chunks of the sweet bread whilst he watches Felix work. Felix says nothing in response, simply diligently wiping up tea and taking the cup back into the kitchen. He returns a moment later, taking Sylvain’s now-empty saucer and replacing it with a fresh drink. “Keep hold of this one.”

Sylvain opens his mouth, before deciding against it. He shuffles in his seat a little, opting to pick the saucer up and hold it tightly in his hands. “Thanks, I’ll try my best.”

“You always do.” Felix’s smile is light as he sits back down, crossing one leg over the other. “Don’t worry about the rug, I can get another one.”

“I just feel bad; I’ve barely been here an hour and I’ve already messed up.” Sylvain chews at the inside of his cheek, staring down at his reflection in the pale pool of tea. He eventually sighs, the exhale of air sending ripples across the surface of his drink. “Sorry.” The apology feels weak, but Felix’s hand appears on his knee with a gentle touch.

“It’s okay, really.” He squeezes gently, forcing Sylvain’s gaze back to him. “It’s just some fur, Sylvain. Stop beating yourself up over small things; I’d thought you’d gotten over that.”

The comment stings a little, despite the good intentions, and he feels the wince hit his features. “I thought I had too.” Sylvain takes a long draw from the cup before setting it on the table, dropping his hands into his lap and wringing them together. “But a lot of things happened in the time you were gone.”

“What  _ has _ happened?” Felix’s voice drops to a whisper, shuffling a little closer to the edge of his seat. “Where have you been?”

“A lot of places, really.” He shrugs, leaning back into the chair. “Being Margrave comes with a heavy travel budget. I was paraded around as a bastion of the new order, convincing the people that Relics and Crests were no longer necessary, trying to get them onto Edelgard’s side.” Sylvain chuckles, idly scratching at his cheek. “Guess all those pick-up lines were good for something in the end.” He sighs again, this one longer, heavier. “But it wasn’t all roses and sunshine; there were civil disputes everywhere we went, protests trying to block our routes across the country. We had to fight with some of them, and…”

Felix swallows at the same time Sylvain does, and their eyes meet in mutual understanding. “It never gets any easier, taking innocent lives.”

“They just… they didn’t back down.” Another chuckle, this one hollow and lifeless. “I admire their dedication to a cause, I really do. But when you receive that command, what do you do? They were obstructing duty, at the end of the day, and we had our orders. I’ve done many bad things in my life, Fe, and every little mistake just adds to that pile.”

A pregnant silence falls over the room, broken after a few moments by the occasional  _ cluck _ of fowl outside. Sylvain knots his eyebrows at this, shifting his gaze to the window. Felix follows his gaze, wondering what he’s looking for. “What?”

“You have chickens?”

The question is so simple and out of place that Felix snorts a laugh through his nose, taking Sylvain’s hand gently and pulling him out of the chair. “Would you like to see them?”

“Absolutely.” Sylvain smiles, eyes wide with curious wonder.

Felix leads him outside, the drop in temperature causing them both to shiver slightly. “Don’t make fun of me, okay?”

“I won’t, I won’t. I just didn’t peg you as the farming type.” Sylvain walks a little faster to catch up, leaving his hand carefully grasped in Felix’s.

“It got a little lonely without something to do. And they keep me on schedule, so I can’t just sleep the days away wishing I wasn’t here.” Felix’s mouth sets in a thin line, a slight frown pulling it downwards. Sylvain gives his hand a gentle squeeze, and Felix looks up to meet his gaze.

“Hey, it’s okay. Everyone copes in their own way.” Sylvain’s dimples return as another smile graces his face. “Yours just happens to be chickens.”

They approach the coops, and Felix begins pointing out the hens pecking at feed troughs around the perimeter. “Okay, so that one up front is Annette.” He hears Sylvain try to cover his laugh, continuing regardless. “And the lady next to her is Mercedes.”

“So which one’s Ingrid?” Sylvain chuckles as he speaks, giving up on hiding his joy.

“She’s not out here, so she’ll be staying warm in the coop. As for the guys... Dimitri is on top of the other coop.” He points to a cockerel standing proudly on the roof, chest puffed out as he surveys the area. “He likes to pretend he rules the place, but that job is actually Dedue’s.” Another rooster struts out of the coop, looking around. “That’s him now. The one over by the fence is Ashe - his feathers are a little lighter than the others, so it felt fitting.”

“It’s… a shame some of us couldn’t be here to see them.” Sylvain says, and it’s a careful skirt around an uncomfortable truth. Felix’s face drops for a moment, and Sylvain immediately regrets voicing his thoughts; he coughs, trying to rescue the mood. “Please tell me you have a chicken for me.”

“Of course I do.” Felix grins, almost feline as it curls around his jaw — Sylvain nearly tells him it suits him far better than a frown. “You’re that one at the back.”

Sylvain follows the jut of Felix’s finger, to where a slightly overweight bird is sleeping with his face in the trough, feathers covered in seed. “Now that’s just mean.”

“He wasn’t always like that.” Felix chuckles, soft in the crisp air. “I don’t know what happened, but one week I noticed he was eating a lot more and sleeping more. The vet says it’s not a problem, he’s just… lazy.”

“Like father, like son.” Sylvain leans on the fence surrounding the coops, watching his chicken counterpart snooze in the midday light. “Did you tell Ashe?”

“He was ecstatic, to be honest with you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen somebody so giddy over a chicken.” Felix mirrors Sylvain’s position, reaching down to gently run his fingers across Ashe’s cape as the rooster approaches. “He wanted to take him back with him, but I had to say no.”

“Even with Ashe’s famous puppy-dog eyes?”

“Even with the puppy eyes.”

“Wow, you’re a tough nut to crack.” Sylvain nudges him with an elbow, glancing in his direction. “But I’m glad you’ve found something you enjoy doing.”

“It’s not just that. They’re useful, too. I can keep some of the eggs, and I can take the rest into the village nearby and sell them. It’s not incredibly profitable, but it gives me something else to do when I’m out for supply runs.” Felix stands, making a move to the gate nearby. “Do you want to meet yourself?”

“I can hold him?” Sylvain’s face creases a little with worry. “Oh but I don’t wanna hurt him, will it be okay?”

“I’ll show you how, don’t fret. They’re easy to handle.” He unlocks the latch, stepping into the enclosure and making his way over to where the slumbering fowl is passed out in the corner. “C’mon big boy, I’ve got a friend for you.”

Sylvain stands upright as Felix lifts the rooster up and cradles it against his chest, briefly jealous of the bird as it is brought closer to him. The picture before him feels so  _ right _ , and it warms Sylvain’s heart to be able to see this side of Felix in person. “He’s such a good lad, doesn’t even care you’ve got him.”

“I think he’s just gotten used to being picked up; I have to put him to bed quite a few nights, especially when it gets colder.” Felix stops in front of Sylvain, adjusting his grip on the chicken slightly. “He’s an idiot, but I love him all the same.” He glances at the other man, a faint blush catching on his cheeks. “So, hold your arm out with your palm up and I’ll let him stand on you. It’ll be a little sharp at first, but let him settle his weight on you.”

Sylvain follows Felix’s instructions carefully, chuckling as the rooster’s feet carefully find purchase on his hand before going still. “Like that?”

“Keep that hand still for a moment, and I’m going to let go of him. You’ll need to hold him close to your body with your other arm, kinda huddle him gently against your ribs. Ready?” Sylvain nods, watching with enraptured eyes as Felix carefully lets go of the bird. “He’s all yours.”

“Hey, little me!” Sylvain brings his face level with the rooster’s, eyes following the erratic movements of his head. “I can’t believe you’ve ruined my reputation like this… how can you be so lazy you sleep on your food?”

Felix leans back against the wall of the coop, watching Sylvain talk to his new feathered friend with a wry smile. He crosses his arms across his chest, looking around at the other birds as they begin to slowly migrate back into the cozy confines of their homes. Annette catches his eye, staring him down before turning away with a non-committal  _ cluck _ to waddle up the ramp leading inside. He turns back to Sylvain, suddenly hit with a realisation that this doesn’t have to be the last time he sees this scene; this could be his life, if Sylvain would allow it. The thought drags him away from the coop, stretching out a hand to brush away Sylvain’s fringe — but deciding against it at the last moment to bury his fingers into soft feathers, gently petting the bird in his arms.

“Might have to put him down in a moment, he can get a little restless if the others are on the move.” Felix says this with an air of sadness, disliking the idea of cutting Sylvain’s enjoyment short because his chicken isn’t very sociable. “Thankfully, he didn’t inherit your penchant for carousing.”

Sylvain huffs a laugh, breath forming the smallest of clouds in front of his face. “How dare you, I do not  _ carouse _ .” Felix raises an eyebrow in rebuttal, and Sylvain pouts in response. “I wasn’t  _ that _ noisy.” He carefully returns the chicken to Felix, giving it a small wave goodbye before Felix ducks into the coop to put him to rest. “You’re really incredible, you know that?”

Felix catches the comment as he returns to Sylvain’s side, patting him on the arm as he moves back to the house. “I’m not. I just made the best of what I had.”

When they’re back inside Sylvain grabs Felix’s shoulder with a little more force than necessary, spinning him round to face him properly. “You need to believe in yourself, Fe. It might not be much, but this is the place you’ve carved for yourself in the world and you should be proud of what you’ve done.” He squeezes gently before letting go, stepping past Felix to retrieve the remaining chunk of his sweet bun. “I… have to leave.” He glances at the clock on the wall, crestfallen. “We’re only in the area for a few days, and I have business to attend to still. Proper, boring,  _ dull _ business. But I was wondering if-”

“Tomorrow morning.” Felix cuts him off again, hand gently resting on his bicep. “I’ll leave the door open after I’ve had breakfast.”

Sylvain’s expression is replaced with the warmest smile Felix has ever seen, full of hope and excitement. “Would you…” He chews his lip, bashful, and Felix thinks it’s the cutest thing ever. “Can we have breakfast  _ together _ ?”

“Of course we can. So long as you’re here early enough.” Felix pulls Sylvain into another hug, pressing his cheek into the meat of Sylvain’s chest. “I’m so glad you came back.”

“Me too, Fe. Thank you for letting me see you again.” His arms are slightly awkward around Felix’s shoulder, trying to keep the bread as far away from him as possible to avoid showering him in crumbs. “And thank you for tea. It was a nice reminder of how things used to be.”

“I’ll have some more for you tomorrow.” He pulls back, and Sylvain gently ruffles his hair before turning for the door.

“Tomorrow, then.” Sylvain gives another wave as he leaves, and Felix waves back through the window as he watches him head back towards the village, finishing the bread as he goes. With a heavy sigh he presses his forehead to the glass, breath fogging up against the cool surface.

“Sylvain fucking Gautier…” He mutters to himself, closing his eyes as his mind refills with the bittersweet memories of their time together at Garreg Mach; maybe this time it  _ could  _ end differently.

Felix stays there for a moment, the chill of the window easing the flush of his face a little, before cleaning up the cups and saucers. He hums at the barely-noticeable stain on the carpet, throwing a little more soap and water on it and letting it soak through before hanging it out to dry as much as it could in the cool breeze.

“If we’re having breakfast together tomorrow, I should make sure I have food in…” Felix looks at the clock, tapping his finger against his chin. It’s only been half an hour since Sylvain left, so that leaves plenty of time for him to walk to the markets before they close for the day. He dips into the study, making a quick list of items he might need - bacon, flour, milk, vegetables, some pastries in case Sylvain stays the day, some pheasant in case he stays for the evening - and picks up his fleece jacket and basket on his way out of the door.

The marketplace is quiet at this hour, as the day begins to wind down into the golden haze of twilight. Felix has enough time to talk with the vendors as he shops, getting the best pick of their remaining stock whilst they converse.

“I’ve not seen you so happy in quite some time, Felix.” The old lady who runs the bakery says, offhandedly, as she hands him a paper bag of peach tarts. “What’s the occasion?”

“Huh? O-Oh…” Felix hadn’t even realised he was smiling, quickly hiding his mouth in the folds of his scarf. “It’s nothing, just… I met with an old friend again.”

“Ah, is that so?” She chuckles quietly, patting his arm gently. “I’m glad you’re doing well. We were starting to worry about you.”

“Your concern is appreciated, thank you.” Felix nods, reaching into his pocket for his coin purse as a blush begins to dust his cheeks. “How much for the pastries?”

“Share them with your friend, and I will accept that as payment enough.” She smiles a wide, toothy grin.

“Are you sure..?” She nods, and he bows deeply. “T-Thank you, your generosity is also appreciated.”

“No need for formalities, dear. Now, be off with the rest of that list before it gets too late to walk home.”

“Thank you, again. Truly.” Felix gives the lady a shy wave as he turns away to continue his errands. The rest of his shopping trip goes without pause, his basket almost overflowing with produce as he makes the journey back to his cottage. Felix fills his pantry with the meats, vegetables and dairy, stashes the peach tarts in the now-empty jar on the counter, and fills the shelves with everything else he bought. As the sunlight fades below the hills he takes a candle from the kitchen drawer and carefully casts the tiniest flicker of magic, setting the wick alight with an arcane flame which he uses to illuminate the rest of the house, the plethora of candlesticks and chandeliers dotted throughout the building aglow with warm amber.

Back downstairs, Felix fills a pot with some fresh pasta and sets it to boil, reigniting the wood in the fireplace and finding a book to read as he waits. Once he’s done eating, Felix checks outside to make sure the chickens are stowed away for the night with enough bedding and food before retreating to bed with the book, letting the story slowly lull him to sleep. He dreams of Garreg Mach again, the unsaid things exchanged in glances across tables, the knowing winks and smiles from the other side of the room. He dreams of Sylvain’s warmth, permeating his very soul, leaving him smiling at the thought of what tomorrow may bring.

—  ♠ — 

Sylvain shows up at eight the following morning, surprisingly fresh for the time of day, wielding a bottle of red wine in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.

“I thought gifts were an appropriate thing to bring when invited for a meal.” He shrugs, the exertion of the walk to Felix’s house evident on his face.

“I didn’t realise you were a ‘wine for breakfast’ kind of person.” Felix responds with his usual wry smile, leaning on the doorframe. “I did also say you could just come in, it’s open.”

“Yeah, but that feels rude still.” He chuckles, offering Felix the flowers. “I’m assuming you have a vase for those?”

“Why would I have a vase? I don’t grow flowers.”

“Oh thank the Goddess.” Sylvain pulls a small wooden crate out from under his arm, and Felix can hear the weight of the object inside as it gently taps against the wall of the box. “Because I got you one of those, too.”

“You’re so sweet, aren’t you?” There’s a genuine softness underneath the familiar bite of Felix’s words, stepping out of the doorway to let Sylvain inside. “I’ll have to find something to put them on. Somewhere out of your way.”

Sylvain has the grace to look  _ somewhat _ offended at Felix’s jab, quickly laughing it off as he deposits the bottle of wine in the kitchen and fills the vase with water, sliding the bouquet inside before standing it on the windowsill. “So, what’s on the menu?”

“Bacon and eggs. Maybe some bread, if you’re nice to me.” He dips into the pantry, retrieving the ingredients from within and handing them off to Sylvain. “I have apple juice, if you’d like some?”

“That would be wonderful, actually. Could do with a cold drink after that walk — how do you do that every single day?”

“You get used to it.” Felix closes the pantry, reaching up to grab a couple of glasses from a top shelf; Sylvain leans over to give him a hand, but only after taking a few seconds to admire the stripe of pale skin that Felix’s over-stretching reveals as his sweater rides up. “I notice you’re not in your fancy attire today. Day off?”

“Thankfully, yeah.” He leans back against the wall, gratefully accepting the juice when it’s handed to him and downing it in seconds. “It’s a lucky coincidence, but it also means I get to spend the day with you.”

Felix pauses in refilling Sylvain’s glass, the abrupt halt of juice flow sending a little splashing over the side. “All day?”

“If you’d like me to stay.”

“I’d love that.” Felix smiles, and it fills Sylvain with an overwhelming sense of relief. “You still have a lot to catch me up on.” He finishes with the juice, setting it aside to light the stovetop once more. “Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They’re beautiful.” He glances over to where Sylvain left them, watching the light catch the decorative glass of the vase before turning back to the redhead. “How do you like your bacon these days?”

“Still just as crispy, with all the fat you can manage.”

“God, you’re disgusting.” Felix huffs out a laugh, starting to cut the fat from his own slices of meat.

“It’s where all the flavour is!” Sylvain pouts, crossing his arms over his chest in a petulant display of childishness. “Live a little, Fe.”

“I’m not going to find divine enlightenment from leaving the fat on my bacon.” He splashes the pan with a drizzle of oil, gently laying the rashers down as it spits and hisses at him. “Not all of us need thighs like tree trunks so they can sit on a horse properly.”

“How do you know they’re that thick?” Sylvain’s smirk is audible, the flirting coming as naturally as breathing. “Been staring?”

Felix used to, but he’s not about to tell Sylvain that. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Gotta put all those nutrients to good use, it’s easy to fall off a horse if you’re not gripping tightly. Not that you’d know.”

“I just don’t like them, you can’t be as precise on horseback. I like… slicing. You have to stab, and lances are unwieldy.” Felix glances over his shoulder, levelling Sylvain with a look. “Don’t you dare.”

“What? Too much of a prude for sexual innuendo are we, Fraldarius?” Sylvain snickers, reaching out to prod Felix in the shoulder; he twists out of the way with a grumble, and Sylvain resists following. “Do you need a hand with anything?”

“You can cut some slices of bread, if you want this in a sandwich.” He nods towards a drawer. “Knife’s in there, plates are underneath.”

“Do you want a sandwich?” Sylvain moves to open the drawer, gently nudging Felix aside slightly with his hip. Felix nudges back, and the cutlery clatters inside when Sylvain bumps into the drawer. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Felix doesn’t respond, but finds himself leaning back a little to maintain a strip of contact with Sylvain whilst he works the knife, slicing four perfect portions of fresh bread. Felix cracks the eggs on the side of the stove, nudging the bacon out of the way to make room in the large iron skillet. The room is filled with the crackle of sizzling fat, the scent of a hearty meal, and Sylvain’s quiet humming of some tune that Felix doesn’t recognise — the whole scene is disgustingly domestic, and Felix feels the cage around his heart loosen a little more in Sylvain’s familiar presence.

“So, how’s Margrave life treating you?” Felix picks up the conversation after a beat or two, the silence between them beginning to err on the side of awkwardness.

“Annoyingly, it’s going rather well.” Sylvain chuckles, stacking the slices onto a plate and wrapping the bread up again. “I thought I’d hate it, as I’m sure you’re aware, but it’s actually proving to be quite interesting. A bit less ‘patrolling the borders’ and more ‘talking at a podium’, but interesting nonetheless.”

“Sounds perfect for you.” He carefully flips the bacon, tutting when a spit of oil catches him on the finger. Felix, out of habit, places the burnt digit against his lips and begins to suck on it as the other hand continues to shuffle their breakfast around. When Sylvain doesn’t respond, he glances around to see him staring at Felix, mouth slightly agape. “Hmm?”

“Oh, n-nothing.” Sylvain clears his throat, swiftly turning away to stow the bread in the pantry. “How about you? There was quite the scandal when you abandoned your title, and your House has been head-hunting for a while.”

Felix takes his finger out of his mouth, giving it a cursory inspection. “And they can continue for as long as they like; I’m not going back.” He lifts the skillet and smothers the flames of the stove, tipping the contents of the pan onto another plate. “In all honesty, I grew tired of the responsibilities forced onto me. All I wanted was to fight, get rid of that bitter taste in my mouth from…”

“You don’t have to say it.”

“They were our friends, Sylvain.” Felix’s face turns sour once again as he stares at the food in front of him. “At the time, I reasoned with myself that it was for the best. That it was the right thing to do.” He sighs, pulling the butter tray from a shelf, and begins to build their breakfast sandwiches. “But as the months went by, the guilt pulled at me and it was impossible to focus on anything meaningful.”

“So you threw yourself back into battle? Tried to give yourself a purpose?” Sylvain scoffs, shaking his head. “Typical Felix.”

“It worked in the past, so why not this time?”

“What, you were hoping somebody would run you through and you’d be absolved of it all?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Felix spat, whipping his head to glare at Sylvain. “You think I’d die for something as petty as that?”

“So you do remember.” A small smile tugs at Sylvain’s lips.

“Of course I do. I am many things, Gautier, but a promise breaker is not one of them.” He puts the top slice of bread on Sylvain’s sandwich with a little more force than necessary, breaking the egg yolk inside. It begins to drip onto the plate as Felix hands it over and Sylvain takes it from him with a grateful nod. “Sorry for bursting your egg.”

“It’s fine, you saved me the trouble.” Sylvain’s smile widens before he turns to head into the front room. “Thanks for breakfast!”

“You’re welcome.” Felix smiles back, preparing his own sandwich and joining Sylvain. “I hope it’s to your standards.”

“Felix, please. It’s a bacon sandwich, the standards are incredibly low.” He takes a bite, humming in satisfaction around the mouthful. “S’good.”

They finish breakfast in silence, and Felix washes their plates whilst Sylvain watches the chickens through the window. Felix observes Sylvain whilst he cleans, enjoying the soft glow of the morning sun on his cheeks; he briefly thinks he’d rather like to kiss him then, but quells the urge as quickly as it comes.

“Maybe the country life isn’t too bad, after all.” Sylvain murmurs to himself, turning to catch Felix staring at him. “See something you like, Fe?”

The blush on Felix’s cheeks multiplies in intensity, and he turns away with a huff to focus on rinsing the cutlery. “You wish.”

Sylvain chuckles again - Felix notes that he’s doing a lot of that, and it’s starting to become infectious - and pushes away from the window. “So, what does a day in the life of Felix look like these days?”

Felix dries his hands on a nearby cloth, pulling his sleeves back down. “Garden work, mostly. I still train a little so I don’t get completely useless, but not much.”

“Did I see a horse on the way in, too?”

“Ah, that’s not mine. She belongs to a farmer on the other side of the field, but she likes to come over in the morning.” 

“Aren’t you just Mr. Popular?” Sylvain nudges Felix’s shoulder, giving him a wink. “Looks like I’ve got some competition.”

Felix rolls his eyes, stepping past Sylvain to unbolt the back door of the house. “The coop needs cleaning out, if you’d like to help?” He tugs on a pair of thick boots once the door’s open, lacing them up tightly.

“I’d love to.” Sylvain gestures at his attire, noting its plainness. “Will this be alright?”

“Oh they’re not  _ that  _ messy, don’t worry. I just have these for gardening.” Felix points towards a cupboard under the stairs. “Would you mind getting the big bucket from under there for me?”

Sylvain did as he was requested, heaving the very wide metal bucket outside to where Felix was gently shooing the hens away from one of the coops. “It’s gonna take a while with two, right?”

“Potentially all day, yeah.”

“Which is why you told me to show up early this morning.”

“You don’t  _ have _ to help, I can do this by myself.”

“Absolutely not; I’ve said I’ll help, so help I shall.” Sylvain deposits the bucket by Felix’s side, putting his hands on his hips and looking over the structure in front of them. “So how do we do this?”

“First things first,” Felix hands him a large shovel, “we get all the old bedding out. But to do that, I have to take all the perches and nest boxes out.” He ducks inside, returning a minute later with some wooden boards and boxes under his arms.

“Shovel it all into this bucket?” Sylvain nudges said bucket to the coop door, tucking it underneath the frame to catch all the bedding.

“Correct. I’ll go and grab some water, because once you’ve done that we need to scrub the inside clean. And that’ll take the longest.”

“Gotcha.” Sylvain offers Felix a mock salute before stepping into the coop. “Oh wow, that  _ stench!” _

“Yeah, it’s not great. All the more reason to work quickly!” Felix picks up a smaller bucket, this one made of wood, and takes it over to the well to fill it. He returns to find Sylvain gently ushering a couple of the hens out of the coop with the back of the shovel.

“For Goddess’ sake, Ingrid, get a move on!” He nudges her once more with the side of his boot and she flutters out of the door, clucking indignantly on the way down.

“You remembered their names?” Felix smiles as he puts the bucket down, leaning into the coop to check Sylvain’s progress. “Nearly done?”

“Almost! Got a little sidetracked but yeah, nearly there.” He reaches up to wipe his brow with the back of his hand, leaning on the shovel with the other. “Even that was hard work, wow.”

“It’s bigger than you think, yeah. Good job though.” Felix throws two stiff brushes inside, pulling the bucket of water with him as he steps in. “Now, we have to rinse and scrub it all down.”

“That sounds… tedious.”

“It is. Incredibly so.” Felix tosses one of the brushes to Sylvain, who drops the shovel to catch it. “Luckily I only have to give it a deep clean like this once a month.”

“Still, once a month is enough.” Sylvain removes the shovel from the coop, rolling his sleeves up and pumping his arms. “Alright, let’s do this!”

Felix rolls his eyes, but slides the water bucket between them and dips his brush in. “Don’t miss the corners or try and get out of this early, we have to scrub the whole floor. Understood?”

“Aye, captain.” Sylvain wets his brush as well and sets to work on the dirt by his feet. 

Half an hour of silent scrubbing later, the wood is practically sparkling clean. Felix claps Sylvain on the back, nodding towards the other coop through the open door. “One down, one to go. We can let this one dry whilst we scoop out the other.”

“Makes sense.” Sylvain nods, stepping out of the coop and giving Felix a hand down after him. “You usually do all this by yourself?”

“All by myself.” Felix rolls his shoulder, wincing at the stiffness. “Shouldn’t be quite as difficult with your big, strong muscles helping me out.”

Sylvain splutters on a breath, and Felix laughs out loud at the response; a deep, throaty noise that rumbles out of his chest, and Sylvain feels the heat rise onto his cheeks once again. Felix’s smile is captivating, and Sylvain desperately wants to kiss it from his face. Instead, he turns and walks to the second coop, gently shooing chickens out of his way as he goes.

“C’mon Dimitri, you stubborn bastard, get outta the way,” Sylvain mutters to the fowl blocking the ramp to the coop, and it stares back at him in silence.

Felix steps in from his left, scooping Dimitri up and putting him back down a few strides away. “He knows when it’s cleaning day. Gets really defensive and won’t let me in.”

“Wow, you really got their names spot on, huh.” Sylvain watches as the bird wanders behind the food trough and starts pecking at the corn inside.

“Totally accidental, I assure you.” Felix has already cleared the nests from the coop, offering the brush to Sylvain again and taking the shovel. “C’mon, let’s get this done with so we can head back into the warmth.”

“Right.” Sylvain waits outside whilst Felix shovels the used bedding away, observing the horizon. He watches the grazing of a herd of cows somewhere in the distance, inhaling a deep breath of crisp country air.

“That’s all the bedding gone.” Felix swaps the shovel for a brush, motioning for Sylvain to follow him. “Time to scrub.”

This time, it takes them almost an hour to finish; Sylvain keeps bumping into Felix and knocking their brushes together, causing them both to stop working and giggle with each other like schoolgirls discussing gossip in the back of a classroom.

“You are an absolute nightmare, Sylvain.” Felix jabs the handle of his brush into Sylvain’s chest, throwing him off-balance. “No wonder chores at Garreg were such a pain with you.”

“I still finished them though, didn’t I?” He hops out of the coop, dusting loose dirt from his arms. “Nobody was ruthlessly efficient at chores like you, Fe.”

Felix shrugs, stepping down beside Sylvain. “I was focused on training; the faster chores were done, the sooner I could practice.”

“You loved that sword. Possibly more than life itself.” Sylvain throws Felix a sly smirk, nudging him in the direction of the first coop. “So what next, farmer?”

“Some pest control and a bit of new bedding.”

“Is that all?”

“That’s it, yeah. Most of the work is cleaning them out in the first place.” Felix chuckles at Sylvain’s blank expression. “What, you thought it was this huge job that would take forever?”

“Kinda.” He shrugs. “It always felt like forever when we were weeding.”

“That’s because you never shut up.”

“I wasn’t just going to weed an entire garden in  _ silence _ , was I?”

“I wish you would have.” Felix smirked, walking past Sylvain to fetch new bedding from an outhouse. 

“You are so mean to me, Felix Fraldarius!” He follows Felix regardless, wordlessly accepting a bucket of wood shavings.

“Can you start putting those all over the floor? I’ll fill the nest boxes and bring them over in a moment.”

Sylvain nods, taking the bucket into the coop and scattering the contents across the now-dry floor. Felix steps in a few minutes later, the scent of mint following him.

“What’s the mint for?”

“It helps to keep bugs and flies out, they don’t like the smell.” Felix begins putting the nesting boxes back into place. “And it’s not too heavy for the chickens.”

“Huh. Well, you learn something new every day.” Sylvain smiles, throwing the last of the wood shavings into a corner. “Anything else that needs doing?”

Felix shakes his head, slotting the last box into the rack. “Not for this one. We just have to wait a little while for the other one to dry out and repeat the process.” He motions back towards the house. “Are you hungry?”

“I could go for a snack, actually.”

“I picked up some fresh fruit yesterday, if that interests you at all.”

“Oranges?”

“I can get you a couple of oranges, sure.” Felix nods, leaving the coop. “You gonna stay out here?”

Sylvain leaves after him, looking around at the chickens spread out around them. “Yeah. If that’s alright?”

“Of course. They don’t bite, I promise.”

Felix heads back inside, and Sylvain crouches next to a group of the fowl. He watches as they slowly disperse to form a circle around him, inspecting him as they walk, and he reaches over to take a handful of corn from a nearby trough. “I’m sure Fe spoils you guys rotten, he loves you so much.”

Sylvain holds out his hand, piled high with feed, and chuckles when each chicken takes a few pecks at the corn; the rest of them begin to wander over from the other side of the enclosure, until Sylvain is surrounded by every one of Felix’s chickens. He feels a brief sense of something like nostalgia, knowing the birds are named after their fallen friends, and it fills him with a warmth of memories from years gone by.

“Here’s your oranges.”

Felix’s voice spooks Sylvain, and he almost falls backwards. “Oh, Fe. Thanks.” He takes the offered fruit, standing up as he begins to peel one of them. “They’re very friendly if you have some food in your hands, huh?”

“Incredibly friendly, yes.” Felix raises an eyebrow as he bites into an apple, swallowing the chunk before continuing to speak. “Were you getting acquainted?”

“You could say that.” He smiles, pulling a couple of segments out of the orange and chewing on them. “Should probably get them used to me.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Felix grimaces, taking another bite.

“Sorry, sorry.” Sylvain waves his hand and finishes eating. “If I’m going to be seeing you more often, I should at least learn which one is which.”

“More often? Bold of you to assume you’ll be allowed back again.”

“Oh, c’mon Fe.” He laughs, pointing to the empty coop. “I’ve been incredibly useful.”

“That is true, you’ve been a huge help.” Felix finishes the apple, picking the seeds out of the core and breaking it into pieces. “This process normally takes me all day.” He throws the apple chunks onto the ground, and the chickens immediately make a break for them.

“I don’t think I’ve necessarily made it go  _ faster.” _ Sylvain eats another segment, swallowing it before talking so as to not upset Felix. “But it’s certainly been more interesting, right?”

“You could say that, I suppose.” Felix points to the other orange in Sylvain’s hand. “Finish those and we should be ready to fill the other coop.” He looks up to the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun peeking through the clouds. “Should be done by sundown.”

“You wanna get started whilst I eat? I won’t be long.”

“Sure. I’ll get the nest boxes ready; you know where the shavings are.”

Sylvain watches Felix work whilst he finishes his snack; he carefully lines the boxes with straw before topping them up with wood shavings and stuffing a fresh sprig of mint into the nest. Wiping orange juice on the back of his pants, Sylvain steps over and fills the bucket with shavings once more.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Sylvain gently elbows Felix and heads into the coop to complete his task.

Felix follows him again, returning the nests to the racks and helping Sylvain push the shavings into the corners of the building. It only takes a few minutes between them, and Felix brushes stray wood chips from his arms when they finish.

“And that’s it. I’ll just have to put the ramps back in place and we’re done.”

Sylvain surveys their work, nodding. “A job well done?”

“Very well done. Good work, Sylvain.” Felix smirks. “You are useful for something after all.”

“Rude.” Sylvain sticks his tongue out as he makes his way out of the coop. His foot steps on air, the floor stopping shorter than he thought, and he topples face-first into the dirt with a panicked yelp, the bucket flying off into the distance.

“Oh shit, Sylvain! Are you okay?” Felix rushes over, dropping to the ground next to Sylvain and helping him up. His face is smeared with dust and grass, but the prominent problem is the blood dripping from his nose.

“I’ve had worse, it’s fine.” Sylvain waves him away, even as thick rivulets of crimson begin to slide over his lips and down his chin. “It’s just a bloodied nose.”

“Let’s get that patched up before you make it worse.”

Sylvain gingerly allows himself to be dragged inside and sat down, and Felix retrieves a medical kit from the kitchen. He starts cleaning the blood away, throwing the used cotton swabs into a bowl, and carefully tilts Sylvain’s head to assess the damage. “Nothing looks broken, at least.”

“I didn’t fall  _ that  _ hard, Fe.” Sylvain watches Felix work, hissing quietly when a piece of cotton is pushed gently into his nostril.

“Keep that there for a second, just need to stem the flow a little.” Felix stands up and takes the bowl, emptying it out before washing it clean. “Don’t play with it whilst I’m gone.”

Sylvain sighs, leaning back on his elbows; he notices the carpet he’s sat on is the one he stained yesterday, and that it’s been cleaned. He smiles, digging his fingers into the plush material, and taps the toes of his boots together whilst he waits for Felix to return.

“Should be good to go. Let’s see…” Felix crouches down, carefully removing the cotton. “Yeah, I think it’s clotted by now.” He smiles, patting Sylvain’s cheek in a motherly kind of way. “I’ll be back in a moment, just gonna go close the coops up. Make yourself at home while I’m gone.”

He steps outside once more, and Sylvain carefully relocates himself to the armchair by the fireplace. He sinks into the seat, running a hand through his hair and blowing out a heavy breath. “Man, that was tough work…” He can see Felix through the window, and he watches him work a little. “I don’t know how you do it every day, Fe.”

Felix comes back inside after a few minutes, kicking off his boots and dusting his hands on the back of his pants. “Hungry?”

“Very.” Sylvain grins, patting his stomach. “Could eat an entire barn right now.”

“All I have is pheasant.” Felix shrugs. “Will that do?”

“Whatever you make, I’m sure it will be amazing.”

“I’d reserve judgement for now.” Felix smirks a little, leaning on the archway leading into the kitchen. “But I appreciate your good faith.”

He steps into the pantry and retrieves the ingredients he needs for the dish - honey, some herbs, a lemon and the pheasant itself - and arranges them on the kitchen counter before pulling a roasting dish from a cupboard and lighting the oven. “Should be about half an hour, is that okay?”

“I think I can hold out that long, yeah. Do you need a hand?”

“It’ll only take a few minutes to get everything ready, don’t worry.” Felix douses the bird in lemon juice before giving it a liberal coating of honey, stuffing the herbs inside along with some salt and pepper and slides the tray into the oven. He washes the sticky residue from his hands and checks the clock — it’s four in the afternoon by this point, and Felix makes a mental note to turn the bird around in a quarter of an hour. “Care for a drink while we wait?”

“Want to open that wine?” Sylvain appears at the archway, leaning on it as Felix did before.

Felix looks at him and nods. “If you’d like.” He takes the bottle from the counter and uncorks it, pulling two goblets from a cupboard and filling them with a few healthy glugs of wine.

“To… our reunion, I suppose?” Sylvain picks up his drink and offers a toast, which Felix reciprocates.

“To our reunion.” He takes a sip, smacking his lips together. “This is a rather nice bottle, Gautier. I’m impressed.”

“I can’t take all the credit; the man at the stall was very helpful in picking out a wine you’d like.” Sylvain takes a drink himself, humming at the pleasant taste. “And he did a damn good job, apparently.”

“Not too heavy, a little fruity with a sharp aftertaste.” Felix nods, picking up the bottle and reading the label. “I’ll have to remember this one.”

“I’ll bring you some more next time.”

“Again with the ‘next time.’” Felix laughs, leaning back against the kitchen counters. “You’re hellbent on worming your way back into my life, aren’t you?”

Sylvain hesitates, his face falling a little. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

Felix pauses, taking in every wrinkle of Sylvain’s brow and the slight glisten of his eyes. He sighs, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “I suppose I wouldn’t know until I tried it.”

Relief washes over Sylvain’s face, and he releases a held breath. “You almost had me for a moment, Fe.”

“Have to keep you on your toes, don’t I?”

“You don’t have to play with my heart in the process.”

Felix stills again, and a hurt expression marrs Sylvain’s face. He opens his mouth to speak, but Sylvain shakes his head before he can utter a word.

“Sorry, that was… a little bitter.” He turns away, trailing his fingers down the brickwork he was leaning against. “Let me know when food’s ready.” Sylvain steps out of the kitchen, and Felix can hear the soft  _ whump _ of the velvet as Sylvain drops into a chair.

He stays quiet for a moment, unsure of where to put his limbs, but eventually his brain kicks in once more and he continues making dinner for the two of them in silence. A pot of potatoes goes on to boil, the pheasant is turned around and some seasonal vegetables are thrown in alongside it. There’s shuffling in the other room, followed by the creak of the back door opening and closing.

Looking through the window, Felix can see Sylvain leaning against the fence of the chicken enclosure again. There’s a light breeze in the air, sweeping at Sylvain’s clothing and the unruly mop of his hair as he watches the chickens go about their business. The sun is approaching the horizon, beginning to fade into the amber glow of the day’s end, and Sylvain looks positively  _ ethereal _ from where he stands. Felix rests an elbow on the windowsill and stares at him — it feels a little perverse, just watching like a voyeur, but it gives Felix the chance to take in Sylvain’s features once more.

He’s certainly filled out a little since the war; stockier and thicker around the shoulders and chest, and his jawline seems a little sharper than it used to be. There’s new scars along the patches of skin Felix can see, faint from years of healing but still branded into his flesh. Felix chews at his lip, exhaling through his nose, and tears his gaze away to check the food. He has to play this game carefully, because whilst Sylvain is first and foremost his best friend, Felix isn’t sure whether his mind is in the right place to take the next step. He also isn’t completely sure whether Sylvain wants the same thing, despite his apparent attempts at flirtation.

Around twenty minutes pass, Felix running on autopilot as he finishes dinner, and Sylvain comes back inside with a smile when Felix knocks on the window to get his attention.

“Oh wow, that smells amazing.” Sylvain looks on in awe as Felix sets two plates down on the table.

“I hope it tastes just as good.” Felix motions for Sylvain to sit, and then brings their drinks and the bottle of wine to the table and takes a seat himself. “Tuck in.”

“I’m sure it will.” Sylvain refills their goblets before taking cutlery in hand and starting to eat. He makes a muffled groan of satisfaction at the first bite of the pheasant, nodding as he chews and giving Felix a hearty thumbs up. “This is fantastic, Fe!”

“I’m glad.” Felix begins to eat as well, and agrees with Sylvain’s assessment - it really does taste amazing. He’d found the recipe hastily scrawled on the back page of one of his recipe books, presumably borrowed from somebody, and thought it would be a suitably hearty meal for the pair of them.

He takes a hefty swig of wine to wash the meat down and they continue to eat in relative silence, until Sylvain asks for the recipe and Felix promises to write him a copy. They finish the bottle of wine, and Felix brings another from the pantry as they wind down and migrate to the seating by the fire.

Felix glances out of the window, the sky painted a haze of orange and red as the sun falls below the hills. “It’s getting late.”

Sylvain actually looks a little sad at the observation, swirling the remnants of his drink in the goblet. “Suppose I should head back soon.”

“You don’t have plans, do you?” Felix takes another sip of his wine, eyes trained on Sylvain’s.

“Not particularly. Probably just read, catch up on reports. That kinda stuff.” He shrugs, the lack of excitement about his evening routine evident in the gesture.

“Thrilling.” Felix puts the glass down and crosses one leg over the over, resting his elbow on one knee to plant his chin in his hand. “I’ve got a much better idea.”

Sylvain’s eyebrow raises slightly, and he stops fidgeting with his food. “Oh?”

“Stay here tonight. They know where you are, don’t they?” Felix watches the gentle bob of Sylvain’s throat as he swallows. “We do have a lot to catch up on, after all.”

Sylvain puts his goblet on the side table, noting the faint haze of red painting Felix’s cheeks, and chuckles. “Where would you like to start?”

Felix rises from his seat and takes a few steps forward until he’s stood in front of Sylvain. “This may be the drink talking, but please don’t laugh at me.”

Sylvain nods. “I won’t, promise.”

“And don’t think I’m messing around either. I always mean what I say — wine or no wine.”

“Of course.” Sylvain’s smile widens, and whilst he wants nothing more than to plant his hands on Felix’s waist and drag him down, he abstains from moving and grips the arms of the chair tightly.

“Good.” Felix is a little clumsy but he manages to wedge his knees either side of Sylvain’s, falling forward and catching himself on the back of the chair. He sees Sylvain take a breath to speak, but Felix is quicker than him and leans down to capture Sylvain’s lips with his own.

He tastes of citrus and honey and unmistakably  _ Felix _ ; Sylvain finally lets go of the seat, cupping the back of Felix’s head with one hand and resting the other on the small of his back. He pushes up, pressing himself deeper into the kiss as a mantra of  _ finally, finally, finally _ echoes in the back of his mind.

Felix’s fingers find Sylvain’s shirt, clinging onto it as if he were drowning at sea, and completely envelopes himself in the sensation of Sylvain returning his feelings. His fear and doubts wash away like ink from his skin, and Felix focuses his attention on capturing this moment forever, sealing the memory of this first kiss into his very soul.

They eventually part, panting heavily, and Sylvain is the first to open his eyes. “You finally got the hint, Fraldarius.”

“Fuck you, Gautier.” Felix levels him with an attempt at a glare, but there’s a lack of venom behind it. “I just wanted to be sure.”

“And you needed a bottle of wine for that?”

“Perhaps.” He sways slightly, his chest still heaving as he takes in ragged breaths. “I just wanted to loosen up a little, that’s all.”

“You’re such an idiot, Fe.” Sylvain reaches up to cup Felix’s face, running a thumb across a heated cheek. “You could’ve just asked.”

“I… I wasn’t sure of myself.” Felix looks away, diverting his attention to the discarded plates on the table. “I wanted to believe that we could rekindle what we had when we were teenagers, but I didn’t think I deserved you.”

“Felix, of course you de-” Sylvain is stopped by a finger on his lips, and Felix has returned his focus to him.

“Regardless of what you might say, I didn’t think I did. I ran away just when I was needed the most, left you to fulfil your duties whilst I hid in this cottage and pretended everything was okay.” Felix sighs, leaning into Sylvain’s hand for balance. “And then you fucking show up out of thin air and suddenly everything’s complicated again.”

Sylvain laughs, partially at the abundance of foul language suddenly coming out of Felix’s mouth and partially at the absurdity of the situation. “Complicated?”

“Very.” Felix mumbles, huffing a breath through his nose. “You and your stupid fucking legs.”

“Oh, so you  _ were  _ staring!” Sylvain breaks out into a grin, and Felix swats at his arm.

“So what if I was! I wasn’t about to inflate your ego any more, was I?!”

Sylvain bellows another laugh, pressing his forehead against Felix’s and pulling him further into his lap so he can kiss him again. Felix relents, melting against Sylvain with a hand in his hair.

“Beautiful.” Sylvain whispers into Felix’s mouth, and is immediately ravaged by the bite of Felix’s teeth against his lip. He groans, a guttural rumble escaping his lungs and Felix latches onto it, nipping along Sylvain’s jaw to chase more noises out of him.

Felix laves his tongue across the expanse of Sylvain’s neck, who tilts his head back slightly to offer Felix even more of his skin, and is rewarded with another bite into the meat of his throat.

“Fe…” Sylvain’s voice is shaky, his hands bunching into the material of Felix’s shirt. Felix responds with a harsh roll of his hips and they both cry out; Sylvain grabs a fistful of hair and pulls Felix away from him.

“Bed.  _ Now _ .”

Felix nods, unable to calm his staccato breathing, and clambers out of Sylvain’s lap. He clumsily takes Sylvain’s hand in his and pulls him to his feet to lead him upstairs, taking two at a time whilst Sylvain struggles to keep up with him. They reach Felix’s bedroom and he barges the door open with his shoulder, throwing Sylvain onto the bed with an alarming amount of strength and climbing up after him.

“You’re mine, Gautier.” Felix practically growls, pinning Sylvain underneath him with a knee either side of his hips and a hand either side of his head. His ponytail slides across his shoulder, falling to the side of his face, and Sylvain reaches up to cup Felix’s cheek.

“I always was.”

Felix gasps at Sylvain’s confession, his eyes blowing wide as he stares slack-jawed at the man beneath him.

“All you had to do was ask.” Sylvain smiles, stroking his thumb across Felix’s lips. “I would have given everything to you.”

Felix pauses, studying Sylvain’s features carefully. “And would you now? Even after all this time?”

“Even after all this time.” He pulls Felix into a kiss, slower and more sensual than the first, and Sylvain’s fingers drag sparks across Felix’s skin where they dip beneath his shirt. He begins to work at the buttons holding it closed, sliding them out one-by-one until the garment is hanging from Felix’s shoulders. “May I?”

Felix sits upright, the hem of the now-open shirt falling across his thighs. “Yes… please.”

Sylvain glides his hands across Felix’s shoulders, sliding into the sleeves of Felix’s shirt and pushing it down his arms; Felix lifts his wrists to help shrug the shirt off, letting it drop to the bedsheets behind him. He takes a deep breath, eyelids fluttering closed when Sylvain’s hands continue to ghost across his arms and shoulders. They trail further upwards, scratching the fuzzy hairs at the top of Felix’s neck, and he hums in appreciation.

Sylvain’s fingers eventually find the ribbon holding Felix’s hair up, gently pulling the knot free and letting the ponytail loose. He watches in mute awe as midnight blue silk cascades across Felix’s shoulders, splaying across his chest like a web of divine thread. He cards his digits through it, moaning quietly at the softness, glancing up at Felix to find his bottom lip tucked tightly into his teeth and his face a gorgeous shade of red.

“I’ve wanted to do that for years, Fe.” Sylvain rests his other hand at Felix’s hip, squeezing gently, lightly branding the shape of his fingers into Felix’s supple skin. “I used to dream about moments like this, back at the monastery. Used to watch you train and wish I could steal you away somewhere quiet. I bet your hair wasn’t quite like this, though.”

“I only grew it out because it was annoying trying to cut it myself so often.” Felix’s gaze travels from Sylvain’s throat, up to his lips and settling on his eyes; a sparkle of something naughty blooms behind maple brown irises. “You like it?”

“Fe, I love it. It’s so gorgeous… just like you.” He catches Felix’s sharp intake of breath with the back of his knuckles, gently tracing across the ragged scar painting his pectorals. It stretches from clavicle to rib, cutting his entire chest in half with an angry, raised slice. “Did it hurt?”

“A lot.” He says, and it’s so matter of fact. “Even with all the numbing magic they could pump into me.” His expression turns sour for a moment, and Sylvain longs to reach up and kiss the frown from his face. “But it was a small price to pay for the luxury of living.”

There it was again; so simple, as if that was that. Sylvain laughs to himself, sliding both of his hands to wrap around Felix’s midriff; his fingers can almost touch, if he tries hard enough, but the solid bulk of muscles under his touch twitch slightly when he moves and Felix’s breathing quickens once again. “Ticklish?”

“N-No, just… everything feels like it’s burning. Like you’re too warm.” Felix’s eyes have closed slightly, watching Sylvain through hazy half-lidded vision. “It’s like a furnace in here…”

“You’re wearing too much clothing, that’s the problem.” Sylvain winks, and it earns him a quiet chuckle. “Let me help you out.” His fingers slowly trace a path down between the planes of Felix’s abs, honed over years of hard work and training, scratching gently at the fuzz of hair leading further below. He glances up once more, waiting for Felix to say no or slap his hand away, but the sight that greets him almost knocks him breathless.

Felix is panting slightly, laboured inhales followed by shaky exhales as his whole body vibrates with pent-up energy. Droplets of sweat catch along his jaw, sinfully sliding down the planes of his throat to pool against the ridge of his collar, and Sylvain has to swallow before his throat dries up entirely. He carefully sits upwards, eyes trained on Felix’s expression, nudging his nose against Felix’s neck and gently kissing the heated flesh. The noise Felix makes is like nothing he’s ever heard before, full of a need and desire that has Felix bucking his hips to press harder into Sylvain’s lap and his name tumbling from Felix’s lips in a whisper.

Sylvain hesitates slightly as his fingertips brush over the button of Felix’s slacks, but Felix’s hand finds his and fumbles their fingers together to slip the fastener free. He groans loudly, the pressure on his groin released at last, and Felix’s voice is thick like honey as he begs: “Sylvain, please.”

“What do you want, Fe?”

“All of you. I want you to make up for all this lost time like I’ll disappear in the morning.” Felix’s eyes blaze with arousal, the tipsy flush of his cheeks replaced with a much hotter burn of pleasure. “Fuck me like you mean it, Gautier.”

Sylvain laughs, dragging his nails across Felix’s back. “I hope you’re ready, Fraldarius.”

Felix grunts, arching his back and tipping his head backwards. Sylvain takes the chance to gently nip at Felix’s throat, sinking his teeth into the pulsing heat of his neck. Felix tenses up, grabbing tightly onto Sylvain’s shoulders and pulling him closer with another guttural growl; Sylvain’s cock throbs and twitches in the confines of his clothes, desperate to be touched, and he has to pull away before he suffocates in the heady scent of Felix.

“Lift up a sec, Fe. I have to get these off.”

Felix wastes no time in grabbing at Sylvain’s clothing, almost ripping buttons and cords off in his effort to rid Sylvain of his garments. Sylvain elevates his hips just enough to let Felix tug his leggings and underwear down to his ankles, and in an instant there’s a heated fist wrapping around his length.

“Shit, you’re a lot bigger than I expected.” Felix slides down the bed, lying down between Sylvain’s legs until he’s eye level with his dick. “You were hiding this from me the whole time…”

“You don’t get what you don’t ask for.” Sylvain smiles, reaching down to lace his fingers into Felix’s hair.

Felix tuts, giving Sylvain an experimental pump of his fist. “Maybe you should’ve made me beg for it.”

Sylvain shivers, moaning quietly when Felix presses a kiss to his thigh. “You, begging for anything? I would never have dared to imagine such a thing.”

“I would’ve done it for you.” Another kiss, followed by a slow swipe of his tongue across Sylvain’s balls. “Some nights I wished you’d work up the guts to.”

“Yeah? Maybe…” Sylvain hums, gently scratching at Felix’s scalp. “Maybe if I’d taken you down to the classrooms, got you on your knees and told you to be a good boy for me?”

Felix groans loudly, grinding down against the mattress. “F-Fuck, Syl…“ He huffs a choked breath against Sylvain’s cock before taking the first inch into his mouth. 

Sylvain yelps at the sudden wetness around him, Felix’s tongue swirling across the sensitive head, and grips his hair tighter. Felix glances up at him, the peek of almond brown from half-lidded eyes sending another twitch of pleasure through him. “You look so good right now, Fe.”

He raises an eyebrow but continues pressing down, Sylvain’s length disappearing into his mouth inch by inch until it can’t fit anymore, before pulling back up and off with a sloppy  _ pop _ and a trail of saliva connecting them together. “Everything you imagined?”

“And so much more.”

“Good.” Felix gives him another slow drag of his fist and pulls away completely to shove his hands into his slacks and push them off him, kicking them into a corner of the room.

“What about you? Is this how you expected it to be?” Sylvain lifts up onto his elbows, giving himself a better view of Felix.

“Almost.” Felix offers him a sly smile, shifting so he’s on his knees again. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to be tipsy to get you into bed, but I’m glad we’re here.” He leans forward to brace himself above Sylvain again, rolling his hips down to brush their dicks together. “The only problem is that you’re not in me already.”

Sylvain bucks up into Felix, reaching down to wrap a hand around both of them and lazily stroking. “We should fix that then, shouldn’t we?”

“You know I’m impatient, Sylvain; don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Sylvain reaches up, gently tapping two fingers against Felix’s lips and pushing them into his mouth. “Gonna need you to get these nice and wet for me.”

Felix nods, licking around Sylvian’s digits as he thrusts into his fist, groaning around the intrusion. He grabs onto Sylvain’s arm, winding his fingers around the thick muscles, eyes sliding shut when Sylvain squeezes gently.

“You’re so beautiful, Fe. I wish you could see how gorgeous you look like this.”

Felix’s heart rate spikes, a shudder rolling down his entire body at Sylvian’s praise. He extracts Sylvain’s fingers for a moment, levelling him with a sultry gaze. “Keep doing that. Please.”

“Yeah? Okay.” Felix nods and returns to sucking, enthusiastically coating each finger in spit. “I’m gonna stretch you soon and you’re going to be so good for me, aren’t you?”

Felix shivers again, his hips stuttering as he mindlessly bucks against Sylvain’s length, warm and solid against his own. Sylvain pulls his fingers free and Felix whines at the loss, chasing his hand before it dips behind him and wet fingertips begin to press against his entrance.

“Goddess, yes…”

“Relax for me, Fe. Let’s make this nice and quick.” Sylvain slowly pushes one finger into Felix, sliding it to the first knuckle with only a little resistance. “Oh? You do this to yourself a lot, don’t you?”

Felix flushes a brighter red, the top of his chest turning into a blotchy crimson stain of embarrassment, but he nods. “Oc-occasionally, yes.”

“Do you pretend it’s me?”

“Don’t… make me say it.”

“How do the real ones feel?”

“Really good.” Felix nods, biting his lip. “Really  _ fucking _ good but I need more.”

“You think you can take both?” Sylvain begins to press the second finger into Felix, who breathes out a heavy moan. “Just like this?”

“Sylvain, please just… hurry up. I can t-take you, I swear.”

Sylvain suddenly stops, pulling out of Felix and letting his fist loosen around their erections; Felix whimpers, his eyes closing once more.

“Who’s in charge here, Fraldarius?” Sylvain’s voice drops a note, the words harsh and demanding.

Felix swallows, nodding. “Y-You are.”

“Good boy.” He suddenly plunges both fingers back into Felix, curling them upwards as he begins a rhythm of thrusts. Felix groans loudly, dropping his forehead against Sylvain’s shoulder and peppering kisses across his skin. “You’re pretty loose already, aren’t you?”

“Shut up… it’s embarrassing.” He tucks himself tighter into Sylvain’s neck, hiding his face as much as possible.

Sylvain removes his fingers completely and presses them back into Felix’s hole before it can relax, repeating the process a couple of times before slowly dragging them out and slapping them against Felix’s rim.

Felix twitches against Sylvain, mewling into his skin and clawing at his shoulders. “Sylvain…”

“I know, I know.” He gives Felix’s buttocks a squeeze, spreading them apart. “Just a little longer.” Sylvain shuffles a little, readjusting their positions so he can slide his dick into the cleft of Felix’s ass.

“Can I?” Felix pulls back, cupping Sylvain’s face.

Sylvain’s eyes dart across Felix’s features - his blown-out expression, his unfocused eyes - and smiles softly. “Of course, sweetheart.”

He begins to lower himself, pressing forward to kiss Sylvain when he feels him enter; Felix shudders at the slight stretch, moaning into Sylvain’s mouth as he’s filled. Sylvain slides their tongues together as Felix starts to bottom out, gently helping to lower him down until he’s completely sheathed inside.

“Are you okay?” Sylvain whispers against Felix’s lips, and he nods in affirmation. “Take your time, Fe. We’ll go at your pace, okay?”

“This feels so much better than I dreamed, Sylvain.” Felix sighs, shakily. “You’re amazing.” He slowly lifts his hips, squeezing around Sylvain’s length as it leaves him, and he drops back down a little faster, legs quivering with the effort.

“Do you want me to help?”

Felix shakes his head, taking Sylvain’s hand and threading their fingers together. “No, I can do this.” The other hand stays on Sylvain’s face, thumb stroking across his cheek.

Sylvain kisses Felix again, shifting to cover his jaw and neck in them, gently sucking bruises into the scar-covered flesh. Felix continues to ride him, alternating between slow drags and quicker spikes, crying out when Sylvain flicks his tongue across his nipple and gently worries it between his teeth. Felix’s rhythm becomes more stable as he gets used to the stretch, Sylvain’s dick catching him at just the right angle to send sparks dancing across his skin.

“Ha-hang on a sec…” Felix slows to a stop, lifting himself off Sylvain with a soft grunt. He finds some space on the bed and flattens himself out face-down, struggling to his knees and lifting his ass into the air. “Take over, Syl.”

Nodding, Sylvain rolls over to kneel behind Felix. He reaches down and runs his tongue across Felix’s gaping entrance once, twice, before shuffling into position and thrusting deep into him — Felix almost screams, burying his face in a pillow to keep his voice down. Sylvain manages to wrangle Felix’s hair into a loose ponytail, gently pulling on it as he pushes forward and forcing Felix to meet him halfway with a lewd slap of sweat-slick skin.

“F-Fuck  _ yes… _ ” Felix groans loud as Sylvain tugs him upwards, his thrusts increasing in speed and force. He finds Sylvain’s other hand, gently guiding it across his shoulders and around his throat; Felix throws a glance over his shoulder, and nods at Sylvain’s questioning expression. “Please, Syl.  _ Ruin me _ .”

Sylvain needs no further instructions, slowly applying pressure around Felix’s throat as he pounds deeper and deeper into his pliant, oversensitive body. He can hear Felix’s sharp intakes of air with each thrust forward, his inner walls clenching tightly around Sylvain’s dick. He wraps some of Felix’s hair around his fist, pulling him into an upright position.

“Fe, I think I’m close…”

Felix nods, and Sylvain pistons into him with enough power to ram the bed into the wall. With a strangled whimper Felix comes first, staining the sheets beneath them with long ribbons of white. His hole clamps down around Sylvain, who can only make it a few more thrusts before he follows Felix over the edge, filling him with his own warm seed. He lets go of Felix’s neck, detangles his hand from his hair, and Felix takes in a deep breath as they come down from the high of orgasm together. They’re sweaty and sticky, but that doesn’t stop Sylvain collapsing onto Felix’s back with heaving breaths of his own.

“Gautier.” Felix finds his voice first, raspy and dry from abuse. “I’m going to be  _ so _ sore in the morning… you’re a monster.”

He laughs in response, rolling off Felix to fall beside him. He feels Felix’s spend cooling against his legs, but he doesn’t find it in him to care. “I could say the same about you, Felix.”

Legs finally giving up on him, Felix collapses onto the bed as well; he grimaces at the wetness now smeared across his front, but doesn’t move to get rid of it. “Thank you.”

“Hm? What’re you thanking me for?”

“I sort of… forced you into this, didn’t I? So thank you for going with it.”

“Oh, Fe.” Sylvain reaches out, tucking wayward ribbons of Felix’s hair out of his face. “You didn’t force anything. I don’t think I’d ever have asked you if you didn’t make a move.”

Felix opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again. He watches Sylvain for a moment or two before speaking. “Would now be a weird time to confess my love for you?”

Sylvain guffaws this time, rolling onto his side to face Felix properly. “I don’t think you need to confess anything, Fe, but it would be nice to hear.”

“Sylvain, could we… would you…” He huffs, puffing his cheeks out in a pout. “Stay with me?”

“Forever. I love you so much, Felix Hugo Fraldarius.“ Sylvain smirks. “Always have.”

Felix scrunches his nose at the use of his full name, but doesn’t have the energy to properly chastise him for it. “You’re a nuisance.”

“I’ll take that as a complement.” He stretches out, joints popping under the strain, and drops his limbs back onto the bed with a sigh. “Do you have a bath?”

“I have quite a large bath, actually.” Felix smiles, reaching over to link his fingers with Sylvain’s once more. “Would you like to share?”

“Absolutely.” Sylvain grins, squeezing Felix’s hand. “Will you let me wash your hair and scrub your back?”

Felix rolls his eyes. “You’ve been reading too many romance novels.” He sits upright with an anguished groan, rolling the ache from his shoulders. “But yes, you may.”

“I could get used to this, you know.” Sylvain moves over to hug Felix from behind, burying his nose into Felix’s hair.

“I suppose I could as well.” Felix pats Sylvain’s hands where they rest on his waist. “I can make some cupboard space for your appalling taste in clothing.”

Sylvain gasps in mock horror, and with surprising speed he picks Felix up and swings him over his shoulder, standing up from the bed with zero regard for the mess they’re both in. “You don’t mean that, Felix. Now, where’s your bathtub?”

Felix slaps Sylvain’s back but huffs when he shows no sign of putting him down. “Second door on the right.”

“This is going to be the best bath you’ve ever had, trust me.”

—  ♣ — 

Felix tuts at his pruney fingers, throwing a clean sheet over the bed. Sylvain pulls him into another embrace, smelling of elderflower and pine. They fall into bed with each other, Felix tucked securely into Sylvain’s chest; he kisses Sylvain’s clavicle, and feels Sylvain’s arms tighten around him slightly.

“Love you, Sylvain.”

“And I love you too, Felix.”

They sleep until dawn, and as the first light of sun dances across Felix’s face he stirs awake, trapped in an unfamiliar hold. He stiffens, but quickly realises where he is; Felix smiles, wraps his arms around Sylvain and murmurs against his chest.

_ “I’m glad you found me again.” _

**Author's Note:**

> The amount of research on keeping chickens I had to do for this story smh
> 
> Please come say hi on Twitter: [digialchem](https://twitter.com/digialchem)!


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